Too Late for Honesty
by Rivala
Summary: A reeeeeally short piece. A letter crosses between the line of purgutory and heaven, and just before L goes on to the next life, him and Light decide to finally tell each other how they really feel. Shonen ai if you squint. REALLY hard. T for language.


_**L**_

Okay, I'll be honest.

I'm not the type of man who will smile and try to get along with people. I'm not perfect, I don't act perfect, in fact I act like a downright arrogant prat, underneath the facade of a quiet, shut in detective, and I know what I like.

I like it when things stay true to a story, I like it when things fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, and I hate loose ends. I am vain, and I like to believe I am modest, making me even more of a megalomaniac. I can go to extreme measures to get what I want, and I'm not afraid of anyone.

I will say my opinion, as long as it doesn't reveal me as the arrogant and selfish berk I am. I will bend my stories, and I will lie. I manipulate, I hate, and I constantly feel jealousy. Jealousy for oblivious, stupid people, which makes me all the more arrogant.

I have a thick fringe, which hides my eyes. It's not because I'm under the influence of the opinion, _they are the windows to my soul, and if you see them, you will see my true self. _It's because my eyes are unloyal bastards, and they do nothing but tell the truth, especially when I that's what I need to hide.

Not to say I hate my eyes, in fact they are my best feature, despite being poor.

I hate it when you hate me, but I despise you even more when you think I like you, despite you doing absolutely nothing for me to believe you are my friend.

That's why I lash out sometimes with a weird comment, to push you away.

Because I don't want your friendship. I don't want the friendship of a murderer.

Come to think of it, I wouldn't want you as a friend even if you weren't a murderer. I would just get irritated at having someone around who is on the same level as me. Intellectually, that is. No, actually, I don't think you are. But you're close, and that's what would annoy me. Because you're not on the same wavelength as me, but you're close, so close it's annoying, because I don't want you to be similar to me.

Because, let's face it, we are on two different sides of the law, you and I.

You keep to your own laws, where I am Law. I should know, it's what my name stands for, L. It's who I am.

To call me Justice is just Law in another language.

Perhaps I should grow up. You know, be less immature. Because all of these emotions are just stemming from my childish ability to be extremely stubborn, i.e. I believe I am always right, and I will take no other opinion. However, that is, annoyingly, one thing we share in common. It's why _I _hate _you _and _you_ hate _me_. Because you think you're right, I think I'm right and in the end, it's because we were both told all our lives – well, for most of my life – that we were brilliant, that we were 'so smart' and 'so amazing' that we could not be wrong, that 'incorrect' did not exist in our vocabulary. We believe that we are on pedestals, and everyone else is twiddling their thumbs below us, whilst looking up to us, so god-like in comparison. We just think we are _so_ much better than the 'ordinary people'.

However, we are only half-right.

We are not perfect. As I said, I am a liar. You are a liar. Gods _do not_ lie. Also, I am a criminal. You are a criminal. Gods _are not_ criminals, for crime is a human word. Crime is a human, for want of a better word, ideal.

You may have the aesthetics of a god, and I may have the mind of one, but we are far from it. If anything, we are demons.

You even more so.

_**Light**_

You are wrong. You may be a demon, but I am not- from the day, the very moment, my fingertips grasped the black book of death, the Death Note, I was proclaimed a god. I was a revolutionary, and yes, I say 'was'. Because I will admit you got better off than me in the end. You have the ability to say 'you are', and 'I am'.

Because now I am cast in darkness, and the world is nothingness. I am surrounded by empty space, by black, by white, and every colour under the fucking rainbow, and I hate it. I hate you. God, I despise you so much, even in death. Why should you, the man who has used such awful methods, such _disgusting _tortures, to get the means to an end, who has put me through hell for the last five odd years, and yes, you were a huge problem even after I sent you to rot in hell, because even though I thought it was the end of my problems, you had been secretly paving a merry yellow brick road for that snowman, that snot-nosed little white-haired bitch of a successor, ever since you took on that case! You just refused to get out of my way. So, I refused to let you live! I denied you fifty or so years left on earth, thirty thousand cases were left unsolved, and all because you were so stuck in your opinions.

To be honest, I would have been happier if you were less of an obstacle.

If you could have been dealt with without the death, if I had the opportunity for such a thing, I would've taken it. If _I _were to be honest, I'd say you were a good person who simply made a mistake. I pity you, L. And _I_ am the one who is in purgetory, stuck in this nothingness for the rest of eternity!

It's so boring here. No matter how far I walk, there is nothing. I wish you were here, in a way. I wish I had someone, or something apart from a crappy letter around me. I have no body. I have no existence. I have no memory, so I could re-read this piece of shit a million times and still think, _did I actually write this? _

I didn't want to die. Not when I found that all my efforts were... a waste of time. I didn't want to die, I wanted to rewind and do it all over again. I wanted to be normal. I wished I hadn't killed you. By doing so... I'd actually made everything, dare I say, worse. I'm lonely. I don't want to say it, I don't want to admit it, but every fibre of me is being impulsive... I have nothing to lose.

Have fun with your concience in your waiting to be reborn. I'd say go to hell, but I'm already there.

* * *

Wow... morbid. I was seriously bored and pissed off when I wrote this. I don't care if I getflamed, as I'll just ignore it, but any nice reviews would be nice~


End file.
